


Christmas Traditions

by firefly_quill



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly_quill/pseuds/firefly_quill
Summary: McHanzo-ifying Tracer's "Reflections" comic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, and a bit rushed, my apologies!  
> Riff on the "Reflections" comic, as I need to affirm this relationship in all canon publications, evidently.

At one point in his life, Jesse McCree believed that the most beautiful thing in the world had to be the sun kissing that endless road that was Route 66. The way the goldenrod canyon and dirt was set against that impossibly azure blue sky, and the faded grey road itself that stretched without faltering toward the horizon: something about it beckoned, made whispered promises of freedom. 

Years later, watching that same New Mexico sun kiss the angular features and silky black hair of one Hanzo Shimada, blissfully asleep and unaware that he was being watched, McCree decided he had reconsidered. 

Jesse reached out to run his fingers through that hair, almost unconsciously, wondering at how he could be so lucky. 

It hadn't been easy. There had been months of push and pull, dancing around what they actually were to each other. But here they finally were, waking up together in Jesse's apartment in Santa Fe for the very first time. 

Hanzo stirred, leaning into McCree's touch. 

"Mornin', sweetheart," Jesse pressed a kiss on the other man's head. 

"Hn."

"Breakfast?"

"Mm."

Hanzo nodded into the pillow. 

"Coffee?"

"Tea."

"Right away!" Jesse purred, leaning in for another kiss before leaving. 

A few minutes later, the bacon and eggs were frying, and the toast was done. Hanzo padded into the kitchen, hair mussed, eyelids still half down. Jesse laughed. He had expected the stoic archer to be a morning person, but was pleasantly surprised when he wasn't. It allowed McCree to dote on the other man for a bit longer before Hanzo fully put up his defenses. 

He handed Hanzo a mug, which the archer took with an incomprehensible murmur of thanks. Jesse took the opportunity to steal a few more kisses while they stood beside each other. Hanzo made another drowsy sound in response, but it sounded pleased. 

He sat down at the kitchen table, shoving some of the clutter away to clear a space. Jesse hummed happily while the food finished, transferring it to a plate with a flourish. He placed the dish in front of Hanzo with a bow. 

"M'lord." 

Hanzo snorted. "Ridiculous." 

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips though, betraying his amusement. 

McCree sat down across from him, grinning. 

"So I was thinkin' we might have something a bit more special for dinner next week, seein' it's Christmas. Nothin' too fancy, maybe a small chicken or ham. You're the one with the sweet tooth, so I figured I'd leave the dessert to you."

Hanzo closed up immediately, to McCree’s dismay. He looked up, eyes narrowing, jaw clenched. 

“I—“ 

“I get it, I get it,” Jesse laughed, putting both hands up, recognizing his lover's discomfort. He hoped his smile hid how the reaction had broken his heart just a little bit. “Too soon?” 

McCree guessed that if had taken him several months to convince Hanzo of his own feelings, then convincing the man to spend an important holiday with him could take several more. A year, even. If ever. Jesse’s smile faded at the thought. 

Hanzo said nothing, and frowned into his eggs.

Jesse reached across the table to grasp gently at Hanzo’s fingers. Hanzo did not draw away. 

“Hey,” The gunslinger ducked his head down, trying to catch the archer’s gaze. Hanzo looked up. 

“Forget I asked at all. Bein’ with you’s all I need,” Jesse kept his voice soft, as if worried he would scare the other man away. 

The words made Hanzo frown even deeper, but he moved his fingers so that they interlaced with McCree’s. He nodded, and his lips turned up to form a hesitant, if not slightly forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

Jesse lifted Hanzo’s hand to his own lips, and kiss it. 

It would be okay. 

\--- 

A week later, Jesse McCree forgot about being okay. 

Jesse tried not to admit that he had been looking forward to spending Christmas with someone special to him, and tried to hide his disappointment, but Hanzo was damn perceptive both on the field and off, especially when it came to the gunslinger. That the two of them had somehow dodged missions until Christmas did nothing to help. Hanzo became quiet and evasive, but continued to stay in Jesse’s apartment, to Jesse’s relief. 

To spare them both, Jesse announced early in the afternoon on Christmas Day that he had was going out for drinks with a friend. It wasn’t a complete lie: he was going out for drinks. It just so happened that his friend’s name was Jack Daniels. Hanzo had looked for a moment like he was going to protest, but stopped himself, nodding stiffly.

\---

An hour later, Hanzo realized his mistake. He reached for his Overwatch communicator to rectify it. 

“Satya. I require a favour.”

\--- 

Several hours and many drinks later, McCree found the situation seemed much more manageable. It didn’t hurt, in Jesse’s estimation, that he had forgotten what day it was altogether, that he was alone at the only bar that was open on Christmas day in the entire town. He pushed away suspicions that the bartender was shooting him a sympathetic look every once in a while, that something—or someone—was _missing_ , that he felt incredibly sad, and his head felt incredibly heavy. 

\---

“Hey! Pendejo!”

McCree blinked, opening his eyes to find a girl in purple staring at him with disdain, sideways. 

No, he was sideways. 

He lifted his head, and scowled. 

“Idiot. Your phone. It’s been buzzing for the past hour.” 

The girl pushed his cell phone towards him. McCree could have sworn the phone had been in his pocket, just like he could have sworn that the girl’s glove glowed bright purple upon touching the device. 

He turned on the screen to find he had missed 16 calls from Hanzo, and nearly fell off his stool. 

The girl smirked at him from a distance, having returned to her own spot. 

McCree scrolled down to find several texts from the archer. He smiled fondly, recognizing the style of Hanzo’s texts—so formal, they could have been snippets from a letter instead.

 **Sweetpea says:**  
Jesse: I apologize for my behavior this week. In truth, I have never celebrated Christmas before, nor have I ever found it to be a day worth celebrating. 

**Sweetpea says:**  
I was troubled because I did not think I would be able to appreciate the occasion in a way that would be worthy of you, and what I think of you. This is important to you, and I was afraid to ruin it. 

**Sweetpea says:**  
I realized when you left this afternoon that I was being a coward, but it was too late to fix it, as all the shops were closed. Luckily, it is the 26th in Japan, and luckily, I was able to secure Satya’s help.

 **Sweetpea says:**  
I have ordered Chinese take-out. Not what you are expecting, I am sure, but I hope that you would still like to celebrate with me. Please come home.

_Home._

Jesse drew in a sharp breath, and wiped at his eyes with impatience, not noticing they had been threatening to overflow. 

His phone pinged, indicating a newly received message. 

From across the room, the girl in purple began to choke on her drink. McCree didn’t think anything of it, turning his attention back to his phone. 

He had received a photo, captioned: “In case you need further persuading, I have also prepared dessert.” 

The photo was of a chocolate cake covered with perfect-looking strawberries. It reminded Jesse of the cakes in the bakery windows he often saw Hanzo look at with longing whenever they were on mission in Japan. 

The cake was strategically balanced on a well-muscled, naked torso, so that it covered a part of that body that Jesse knew very intimately. 

McCree’s eyes widened. He slapped some money on the bar, and stumbled over himself in his eagerness, bolting for the door, and yelling for a taxi like a madman. 

\--- 

In the pub, Sombra had regained her composure. She crinkled her nose at the picture again, and hit “Send”, before emphatically deleting it from her phone. Less than a minute later, she received a message. 

**Edgelord:**  
WHAT IS THIS.

Sombra rolled her eyes. Even his *texts* were melodramatic. 

**Sombra:**  
You wanted to know how the cowboy was spending his Christmas. Not alone. ;)

 **Edgelord:**  
WAS THE PICTURE NECESSARY.

 **Sombra:**  
You asked for proof.

 **Edgelord:**  
NEXT TIME, JUST TELL ME.

 **Sombra:**  
Got it. Will describe dick pic next time. 

**Edgelord:**  
SOMBRA.

 **Sombra:**  
How about you, boss? How are you spending Christmas?

Sombra was not expecting an answer, nor did she get one. She looked once more at the series of texts she had stolen from the cowboy’s phone, and snorted. 

_They deserve each other._


End file.
